Gemotions

The handwritten note taped to the bakery door felt like a personal affront. "Closed," it declared, simply. No explanation. No apology. Just a rude, abrupt end to years of morning pastries and afternoon coffees. Emily felt a sharp, almost physical pain.

She decided to find a way in. She tried the door. Locked. She jiggled the handle, she even tried a little shove. She walked around the back of the building. She found a window, peered inside. Empty tables, silent ovens. It was impossible, wasn't it?

Finally, she decided to buy a pastry from another bakery. She spent far too much money on what she was buying and did not enjoy a single bite. She resolved to make her own croissants.